


Namaste

by FelixMinou (clockworkgirl221)



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Other, Yoga
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-11
Updated: 2016-03-28
Packaged: 2018-05-26 03:47:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6222430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clockworkgirl221/pseuds/FelixMinou
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gilbert de Lafayette is a yoga instructor. That's it, that's the show. Drabble.</p><p>Now with Washington's POV.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Lafayette

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Iwillgladlyjointhefight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iwillgladlyjointhefight/gifts).



> Y'all are dirty enablers. I love y'all for it, though.
> 
> Watch me freak out about stuff on tumblr: petitminou-kun

Lafayette had been doing yoga since they were 14. So when they got to the United States for college (all four years, and residency while they studied), they took the first opportunity they could and got a little job at the University gym. They weren’t majoring in any kind of sports teaching, but most of the teachers had already graduated and the gym needed teachers.

So Lafayette took on the bulk of the yoga classes, starting the summer before their classes actually started. It was their version of a summer job, and they would take night classes once the university fall semester started up.

“Good morning, class,” Lafayette said as they strode into the studio. “My name is Gilbert de Lafayette, but you can call me Lafayette,” they said. “I am the new teacher, but we don’t have to waste precious time to introduce ourselves. We can have plenty of time after the class.”

They began the class then. Most of the people in these summer classes were actually community members, people from the town around the university. Some people were students in the summer programs, but otherwise it was parents of middle schoolers from town, some teachers (University professors included), people who only really had time for themselves in the summer or in the early morning like this.

After thoroughly stretching everyone in the class out, Lafayette allowed them to stretch out on their backs in Corpse pose, told them to breathe normally, and then sat them all up and told them about the important “Namaste.”

As his older students were rolling up their mats, Lafayette looked about the room. Yes, most of the students were housewives and mothers, corporate wives and grandmothers, but there was one older gentlemen who had spread his mat in the corner near the door, as if to flee as soon as possible. But he hadn’t fled yet.

Lafayette smiled at him.

He approached them.

“Are you… French, by chance?” The man asked, his reddish brown mat in his arms.

“Oui, monsieur,” Lafayette replied. “But we French learn English in school. That is why I am almost, how do you say, fluent. What is your name, by chance?”

The man was slightly dumbstruck.

“Sir, you know my name: Gilbert de Lafayette, they/them pronouns, please and thank you. I do not have the pleasure of knowing your name, though.”

“Uh. Um. I am George Washington… he/him pronouns,” the man replied.

Lafayette racked their brain. They had heard that name before… or had read it somewhere. Ah. “You teach most of the American History classes here,” they said.

George nodded, “Ah, yes.”

Lafayette smiled brightly, fluttering their eyelashes. “Ah, then I have an advantage. I am in your Intro to American History class this fall,” they then winked. “I look forward to being your teacher first, Professeur…”


	2. Washington

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Washington's point of view of his first yoga class--and of his sexy instructor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Damn you, singoeshere.
> 
> Dirty enabler. J/K I love you. This is for you, and anyone else who wants to see Washington drool over lean and toned Lafayette pushing his butt into the air... and other sexy yoga poses.
> 
> I will never do yoga the same...

George Washington was what his ex-wife called “a workaholic.” It might have been because his father didn’t hug him enough, but George just liked to have stuff to do. But the only things he really liked was having his lesson plans done, and his syllabi written up. He didn’t really have any other hobbies.

So his ex-wife, who he was still dear friends with, decided to help him find some hobbies… besides sitting at home reading (and even then he read mostly histories, and he was a history professor). She had given him certificates for Christmas and his birthday to several different hobby-material classes, such as cooking, and had gotten him a gym membership, which he enjoyed, since it was on campus and he could go to his office and get still more work done after a good hour on the treadmill or at the weights.

Finally, she put out an ultimatum: do a class at the gym, or she would stop talking to him.

Martha was his only friend at that time in his life. He knew that her not talking to him was a Bad Idea, that he needed her in his life. All of his other so-called friends were his TA, one Alexander Hamilton, and his other coworkers in the History Department.

So he closed his eyes one day while holding the summer gym class flier and pointed.

Morning Yoga, 9am, with some man named Gilbert de Lafayette.

And boy was he unprepared for Lafayette.

Hot damn.

When he came into the room, he was a sight for sore eyes. He was fit, and he showed off every muscle in his loose white crop top and purple spandex. George was disappointed that his instructor seemed to have tucked, as his package wasn’t as pronounced as it might normally be in shorts that tight.

“Bonjour, mes etudiants!” He called merrily from his mat. He was sitting in a cross-legged position, and he put his hands out in a most welcoming position as he said, “Please sit, how do you say, criss-cross applesauce facing me please!”

George was struck by Lafayette’s fluentness in English despite the French (?) accent, and then he was struck by Lafayette’s athleticism, and then by Lafayette’s knowledge of yoga as both a workout and a spiritual tool. This boy was amazing, and George hardly knew anything more about him.

So he decided to approach the boy after the class ended.

But then he lost his nerve. And then he regained it again.

Approaching the other carefully, he said, “Are you… French, by chance?” He had actually wanted to ask if the boy was single, or at all into older men, but he decided the topic of the other’s origin was a better way to start.

“Oui, monsieur,” Lafayette replied, and god his eyelashes were long and very pretty... “But we French learn English in school. That is why I am almost, how do you say, fluent. What is your name, by chance?”

George hadn’t been particularly paying attention: he was too absorbed in the boy’s too pretty face. It was impossible for a boy to be this pretty!

Lafayette spoke, and George realized that he actually wanted to get to know this kid, so he snapped back to attention:

“Sir, you know my name: Gilbert de Lafayette, they/them pronouns, please and thank you. I do not have the pleasure of knowing your name, though.”

Oh. So Lafayette was… not in the gender binary. That’s what you get, old man, George thought to himself. Misgendering the most beautiful person since Martha stepped out of your romantic life… Not to mention staring at them like a creep instead of showing other interest in them beyond their pretty face and gorgeous body.

Well, he could always make a better second opinion: “Uh. Um. I am George Washington… he/him pronouns.”

Recognition dawned on Lafayette’s face after a few moments of steady eye contact with the older professor. “You teach most of the American History classes here,” they said.

George blinked, then nodded, “Ah, yes.” Shit, this kid was his student?!

Lafayette smiled brightly, fluttering their eyelashes, “Ah, then I have an advantage. I am in your Intro to American History class this fall,” Lafayette had the gall to wink those pretty eyelashes of theirs, and George felt weak as he stared into those chocolate brandy eyes, “I look forward to being your teacher first, Professeur…” they said with a smirk as they shouldered their rolled-up mat and sashayed--yes, sashayed--away.

George looked forward to Lafayette being his teacher first as well.

It made his thoughts seem a little less creepy when they were both technically teachers...


End file.
